head, “But time travel’s impossible.”
“Is it? Well, I thought so, too, until Prescott Stevens, our past president, showed me. And now, I’m ready to show you. I know you can handle it. You’re an adventurer. And it’s fun! Believe me.”
She looked at Bill and shook her head again. “This is just outrageous . . . ”
Bill took the key attached to a chain around his neck from inside his shirt. “Come with me. I’ll take you back to 1863 right now. It either happens as I say it will, or it doesn’t, as you say it can’t. You have nothing to lose.” He held out his hand. She reluctantly took it.
Oh boy, Emma, she thought, you’ve heard some lines before but this is the best. She rolled her eyes at Bill and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
Bill opened the door, and she studied the hissing gas lamps illuminating the descending stone staircase. They came to the final door at the bottom, and Bill opened it and stepped out into the garden.
DATELINE: 1863 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK
Emma walked out slowly. Her eyes grew wide as she looked around at the flowers and ferns all teeming with life as butterflies and birds flitted about. She stopped and gazed at the small pond with goldfish that shimmered in the light of the gaslight lamp mounted on the wall. Bill watched her as she approached the gate to the street outside the garden. It was a warm evening with a light breeze.
Emma said, “This is impressive. But how do I know that I’m back in 1863?”
Bill opened the gate and stepped out. He pointed to a soft glow on the corner. “Gaslights for one.” He pointed to the street, “Cobblestones and horse waste.”
She shook her head and recoiled slightly as she smelled the horse waste in the air, “This could all be a kind of reality setting. No, I need real proof.”
Bill offered her his arm, and she looked at him, eyebrows raised. “It’s how a gentleman and a woman walk about in this time. You know that. For now, just pretend you are in the club. Agree?”
She nodded and took his arm, “Agreed. Lead on, sir.”
Bill took her to the corner, and she looked up at the gaslight.
“I think I need more proof,” she said.
Bill nodded, “Give it a minute or two. Sooner or later a . . . “ he stopped and listened, “I think you’re going to get your proof soon enough.”
Bells clanged and horses’ hooves were heard along with steel-rimmed wheels bouncing on the cobblestones. She instinctively held tight to Bill. Suddenly out of the dark burst four horses pulling a red fire engine that belched smoke and steam. Two men in black rubber coats and sporting thick mustaches slapped the reins and pulled the cord to the bell while they drove the horses quickly around the corner. Holding onto the rear of the steaming engine were three more men dressed in firemen’s clothes of the 1860s.
Bill pulled her back from the street as doors and windows opened and people started coming out to watch the action. “You’re not really dressed for downtown New York, 1863.”
She looked at her close-fitting clothes and at the women of New York City with their wide flowing dresses. “Oh my, right you are. I don’t fit in here at all.”
They quickly went back into the garden. Bill asked, “Want to sit here for a while? It’s my private spot.” She nodded and they sat on a stone bench in the shadows. “There are times I come down here just to escape our time, have a good cigar and think.”
She fixed her hair and looked up at him. “Was that really a fire engine going on a call in 1863, or am I going crazy?”
Bill smiled, “You’re not going crazy. I’ll explain all I can to you, but I have to know that you accept the fact that we can time travel.”
She shook her head yes. “Oh, I believe it all right. This is amazing, it really is, but, why me? Why do you want me to teach Bat Masterson how to shoot? And if I couldn’t shoot, would you have showed me all this?”
Bill shook his head, no. “There’d be no reason to show you. Maybe sometime in the future. That’s what the club is all about. And I wouldn’t ask you to do this if you weren’t a member. But you already are halfway in the past each time you enter the club. Physically and mentally you were in the 1800s when you dress and meet with the other members. Right?”
“You’re right.” She looked at him and grinned. “When can we go back out there?”
He grinned back and answered, “First let me give you the short story as to why we need Bat Masterson to be a good gun handler. Okay?”
“Go ahead, this I have to hear.”
An hour later Bill had told her all about the mission. It started to rain and they went back up to his office and 2011.
DATELINE: 2011 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK
She wiped rainwater from her shoulders as she came through the door. Bill called Matt for refreshments.
Over coffee, Emma looked deep into the black liquid. “So, in a nutshell, Roosevelt is not the aggressive, confident president we know of from our history books. He didn’t charge up San Juan Hill, and we lost more men than we should have. And because of all this, Japan became the dominant country in world politics, and we take second or third place.”
Bill nodded as he put his cup down. “We know that Roosevelt was a huge admirer of Bat Masterson. They used to sit and talk about military tactics. Roosevelt needed a guy like Bat to bounce around ideas. But if Masterson wasn’t handy with a gun, he could never have become a lawman, Roosevelt would never get to admire or meet him, and Teddy would lose his guiding star.”
“Wow! Bill. That’s wild. But let me ask you, does he want gun-handling lessons?”
“This is the sticky part. He thinks I’m a writer looking to do a piece on the pros and cons of being a good gun-handling person.”
“You mean gunfighter.”
“Well, not really. Masterson is an upright man who can’t be pushed around. He’s just a terrible shot. I convinced him to take lessons as an aside for the story we are working on together. Whether he’s good or not with a gun, he’s going to be the same person and in his case, a good person. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask you to teach Billy the Kid to shoot. We need Masterson to be good enough to have confidence in himself and let Roosevelt hear of him and meet him so history will take its natural course.”
“Where do we start?” Emma asked, eager to begin.
“When you are ready we take a cab to the ferry going to New Jersey. From there, we take a train out to Dodge City, Kansas. I’ll go over the clothes and things you’ll need for the trip.”
Emma pressed him, “When do we start?”
“Tomorrow, if you want. I suggest you get some rest. It’s not the easiest trip I ever took.”
Emma’s eyebrows raised, “I thought time travel could put you . . . well, anywhere you want? Why do we have to travel?” She raised her hand, “not that I don’t want to. I am looking forward to every second of this trip. I want to experience it all.”
“I know what you mean. And it’s too bad the time unit that sends us into the past can do it only from one place, and that’s to and from this building. It’s been on this spot for over a hundred years. Next time I speak with the people from the future, I’m going to see if they can hook it up to a GPS unit or something that can place us in any spot we want. But, like you I enjoy having to take the same transportation systems that the people of the time period we visit did. It gives me a feeling of being one of them as we all experience the same trials and tribulations.”
The grandfather clock struck midnight and Emma stood up. She held out both hands and grasped Bill’s. “This was the most fantastic evening in my life.” She looked at the pistol on the table. “What do I owe you for the revolver?”
“No charge. It’s a business expense, and I hope your grandfather likes it.”
“He will, believe me. Now I have to concoct a story about how I got it.”
“Your problem, not mine.”
They laughed as Bill walked her to the door. “Tomorrow, Matt will outfit you for the trip.
”
“I’ll see you early in the morning. Good night, Bill, and thank you so very much for a great evening.”
DATELINE: 1875 PLACE: DODGE CITY, KANSAS
One week later, the train conductor let everyone know that Dodge City was thirty minutes away. Bill sat in the dining car as Emma entered. He eyed the men as they watched her walk by them. She wore her blond hair swept up beneath a stylish, wide brimmed, brown hat with a black and white feather protruding from the crown. It matched her wide-shouldered, short brown jacket and long flared skirt. Her high-buttoned shoes made her taller than most of the other passengers and she walked through the bouncing car with grace.
Wow, thought Bill, even with a minimal amount of makeup on she’s a knockout.
Emma smiled as she sat next to him. “Five o’clock,” she said. “Bet it gets dark early around here.”
“Wait until you see how dark it gets. You set?” Bill asked.
“Yes, and am I glad you told me to bring my own towel.”
Bill looked at her large bag, “I’d love to know what else you have in that travel bag . . . damn, it’s heavy!”
She smiled. “Just stuff we women can’t be without,” she added with an air of mystery, “all very top secret you know.”
“Is the pistol I gave you in there?”
She shook her head, no. “No, I gave that to my grandfather before I left. I told him I traded a few of my pistols for it. He was so moved, it was a beautiful moment.”
Bill smiled as he felt the train starting to slow